


Halves

by stephanericher



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Birthday, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 20:50:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4320213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/pseuds/stephanericher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After all, it’s his birthday so he might as well do what he damn well pleases.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Halves

Tatsuya shows up the morning of Shuuzou’s sixteenth birthday with a bag full of groceries in one hand and a cake pan in the other.

“Happy birthday,” Tatsuya says, leaning up for a quick kiss. “I thought we could make you a cake together. And you can tell me if there’s anything else you want.”

Shuuzou’s not sure if he means sex—which he’d be fine with, considering no one’s home right now and he’s got the whole day off from his summer job, but it’s not something he’d think Tatsuya would consider a birthday present. On the other hand, Tatsuya’s so difficult to read sometimes that Shuuzou could be reaching too far with his assumptions on this one. After all, he hadn’t pegged Tatsuya as the type to take him to a fireworks show for a romantic evening under the stars, but last week had definitely been real and wonderful. Hell, even if today is just food and sex it’s going to be great.

Tatsuya’s grocery bag doesn’t look that big, but he keeps taking things out—flour, baking powder, two kinds of sugar, butter. Shuuzou blinks.

“Don’t people here make cake from boxed mixes?”

Tatsuya wrinkles his nose. “That’s no fun. It takes like two seconds and tastes like shit.”

Shuuzou shrugs—he wouldn’t be against a boxed cake on principle (he’s actually never made a cake of his own; living alone with no one to bake for and then spending most of his time working and learning a new language and taking care of his family have ensured that) but he’s very fond of Tatsuya’s cooking, so he’s inclined to trust him on this one.

Tatsuya’s rifling through the drawers, pulling out measuring cups and forks and bowls and even an electric mixer (Shuuzou supposes it came with the house; he can’t imagine why his mother would buy it or use it for). Shuuzou’s eyes flicker over the grease-stained piece of paper containing Tatsuya’s recipe; the writing is even messier than Tatsuya’s usual half-legible scrawl and the paper is curled at the edges—it must be old, copied down from somewhere when Tatsuya was much younger. It’s strange to think of Tatsuya at Shuuzou’s brother’s age or maybe even younger, wielding an electric mixer—but then again it isn’t at all, because it’s so very Tatsuya.

“What can I do?” Shuuzou says.

Tatsuya shrugs. “Preheat the oven and grease the cake pan. And you can make the icing.”

Shuuzou blinks. “You make that, too?”

Tatsuya nods. “The canned stuff is only good if you eat it straight from the can.”

The idea of eating icing on its own is a little bit revolting, but Shuuzou supposes it can’t be much worse than boxed cake. And he wouldn’t mind eating it with Tatsuya, smearing some on each other’s faces or just watching Tatsuya eat, the way he holds a spoon in his delicate fingers.

“Shuu?”

Tatsuya’s pouring flour into a bowl; he’s already spilled some over the side and onto the counter and on his black shirt. He brushes his hair back from his right eye and now there’s flour in his dark hair like snow on asphalt. Shuuzou’s already forgotten what he was saying and what he was doing.

“I’m sorry,” Shuuzou says. “Spacing out again.”

Tatsuya nods, picking up the measuring cup again. “Thinking of anything in particular?”

He knows; he always does—not that Shuuzou minds him knowing terribly. He ambles over to Tatsuya’s side and drapes one arm over Tatsuya’s shoulders, kissing the floury spot in his hair.

“You.”

Tatsuya leans into him, very briefly, before picking up the can baking powder and measuring some out and into the bowl. Despite how messy he is, he’s pretty precise with the measurements—he puts a little bit too much of everything in, but it covers the parts that get spilled over the side and on top of the both of them. Shuuzou supposes he should get started on the icing, but it won’t hurt to stay next to Tatsuya for just a few more seconds.

* * *

 

The cake’s in the oven by the time they get back to touching each other, when Tatsuya’s all covered in flour and flecks of batter and he smells like chocolate and his lips are sticky from licking the mixing fork. When they kiss it’s not like fireworks are going off in Shuuzou’s insides, or as if he hears music swell in the background or anything like that. It’s exciting and like something warm is unfurling inside of him, but nothing dramatic as that. But it’s certainly enough to deal with on top of his hands in Tatsuya’s hair and Tatsuya’s tongue in his mouth and scraping across his teeth, with the realization that this is Tatsuya, beautiful and enigmatic and much kinder than he gives himself credit for, that he and Tatsuya have this thing, unclear as it is to define, going on, especially given the few months they’ve known each other and how even a month ago it had been so very touch-and-go and he’s still uncovering bits and pieces and details of Tatsuya now.

Tatsuya’s hands are inching lower on Shuuzou’s torso, reaching under his shirt and fiddling with his belt; Shuuzou’s own hands are still on the sides of Tatsuya’s face.

“Is this the other half of my present?” Shuuzou says.

“Nope,” says Tatsuya. “Unless you really want it to be.”

He grins and then he’s down, kneeling in front of Shuuzou and wasting no time in opening his belt and unzipping his jeans. Shuuzou reaches down to touch his knuckles to Tatsuya’s and then slips his fingers through to lock their hands together. Tatsuya hesitates ever-so-slightly under the touch but doesn’t slip his fingers out or stop.

* * *

The cake is even more delicious than Shuuzou’s expecting, subtly-flavored and melting in his mouth; he resist the urge to have a second piece even though he finishes his piece before Tatsuya gets halfway done with his smaller slice. Tatsuya looks amused, and Shuuzou can’t really blame him.

“Thank you; that was delicious.”

“You made it, too,” says Tatsuya.

Shuuzou shrugs as he moves to wash his plate off in the sink. “It was mostly you. And it was your recipe.”

Tatsuya hums and busies himself with eating; Shuuzou scrubs at his plate and dries it off before returning to the table. A few crumbs cling to Tatsuya’s cheek and the corner of his mouth, even as he licks the last bits of icing from his thumb. Shuuzou follows him back to the sink as he goes to wash his plate, getting himself in the right position to kiss the crumbs from Tatsuya’s skin. Tatsuya laughs, moving his mouth to kiss Shuuzou properly before he turns back to his plate.

“We’re all going to the hospital for dinner tonight,” Shuuzou says. “You’re welcome to come if you’d like.”

“I’ve got…other commitments,” Tatsuya says, gaze flickering to something behind Shuuzou, of to the side.

“My family would love to have you,” Shuuzou says. “You know they all like you.”

“I know,” says Tatsuya. “But I can’t really…”

He waves his hand vaguely in the direction of his gaze. Shuuzou leans in to kiss his cheek; the last thing he wants Tatsuya to think is that he’s angry (which he always will if there’s ever any ambiguity or even sometimes if there isn’t) because he’s not. A little frustrated, sure, but not angry. Shuuzou tightens his arms around Tatsuya’s waist; he can feel the vibrations of Tatsuya’s miniature sigh and the steady rhythm of his breath.

“You free tomorrow night?” Shuuzou says.

“I think so.”

“Good. Come over; I want to cash in on the second half of my present then.”

Tatsuya swivels around to look at his face, placing a hand on Shuuzou’s shoulder. “What would we be doing?”

“It’s a surprise,” says Shuuzou. “Humor me?”

Tatsuya nods, smile glimmering at the corners of his mouth like a rainbow in a fire hydrant opened to become a sprinkler in the street, and Shuuzou really wants to kiss it again so he does, relishing the feeling of Tatsuya’s hands on his skin and Tatsuya’s back under his own hands. And one of these days (hopefully soon), Shuuzou’s going to figure out how to make it so they stay like this for a little bit longer, how to make Tatsuya more comfortable with staying longer, how to assure him that it’s going to be all right and make him believe it. But for now he’ll just enjoy the moments as they come, irregular and all-too-short—and after all, it’s his birthday so he might as well do what he damn well pleases.

**Author's Note:**

> happy late bday niji


End file.
